Love is a Waiting Game
by Elephantsneedwater
Summary: "Thelma," his voice holds hope like someone who finally found what they were looking for. I watch in silent horror as the man lowers his hood. It falls back limply, his shoulder length hair moving slightly. And I look into a face with crazy blue eyes. It's not the frown that makes me run, but the way he looks at me. Like he knows me. He called me by my grandmother's name. Why?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone:) I've decided to try my hand at the very brooding, metal armed man we all know as Bucky:) I really shouldn't be writing another story, but I really have to. It's been in my head since I saw the movie.**

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It was raining outside. My small house on the corner of my street was surrounded by trees and now that the sky was dark I felt like I was alone in the world. I liked it. The house used to be my grandmother's parents house, it was passed onto her and onto my mother an now I have it. It's quaint and old, but I love it. I glanced out my window to watch three separate lightning strikes blossom across the sky simultaneously. I clutched my coffee cup tighter and was glad for my day off. I worked at the local flower shop. I had been nagging for a weekend off and was glad that I had chosen this week. Even though it was raining cats and dogs outside my friend Bethany had to stay till the end of her shift. The store had just gotten a whole shipment of summer floral ready for the hot months ahead and she was supposed to put categorize them and file them for our manager in the morning.

I sighed and pulled away from the window. My over sized sweater shifted against my bare thighs as I slid across my wooden floor on sock clad feet. I was enjoying my day off by binge watching TV shows on Netflix and drowning my need for companionship with hot coffee. I slumped back into my chair and hit play just as my cell phone rang. I groaned at the caller ID, but answered anyways.

"Bethany, you better have a good reason for calling me on my day off,"

_"I think there's someone in the store. Does that count as a good enough reason?"_ She asked. I could hear her whispering now and glass breaking,_" I can hear him in the back,"_

I sat up,"Bethany, are you still in the store?!" I balked grabbing my purse and car keys.

_"Yes, I thought that was obvious,"_ she hissed into the receiver and I rolled my eyes.

"Bethany, I don't need your sarcasm right now, get out of there and call 911!" I told her as I opened my door and glanced out at the down pour before I ran out to my jeep,"Shit," the mud and wet seeped into my socks and I groaned for not putting on my rain boots that were right by the door. I was soaked in mere seconds. The rain was cold and harsh against my skin.

I was on the road in a matter of seconds. This rain was insane. I had tossed my phone onto the seat and put it on speaker.

"I'm going to check it out," Bethany said.

"What? Don't do that! That's what the girl says in all the movies right before she dies! Bethany, don't go in the back," I warned, but I could hear her move around.

I concentrated on the road and the right turn that I knew was coming. She was silent on the other line and I panicked,"Bethany!?"

_"Sorry, it was just a tree. It fell threw the window,"_ She finally said.

"Are you kidding me? I'm already pulling in, Bethany,"

I parked and ran my hand over my soaked hair. It was cold against my neck and my windows were fogging. It was cooler in here then it was outside. I rolled down my window when I saw movement and Bethany was staring at me.

"Sorry, Nadene, I seriously thought I was going to die," She gasped. She had her rain coat hood tight around her face and I grimaced as the umbrella she had was spilling water into my car.

"Bethany, I drove all the way down here to rescue you,"

"Why didn't you call the police?" She asked.

"Why didn't you?"

She peered in at her lips pulling into a thin line,"Touche,"

"Get back inside and close up. I'll stay instead," I told her shutting off the engine.

"Are you sure?" She asked, but I could hear the relief in her voice as I opened my door.

"Yeah, I have morning shift anyways and someone has to stay to make sure animals and what not don't get into the store," I explained grabbing my phone I followed her into the store.

"Thanks," She turned to me and looked at me up and down,"What happened to your shoes?"

"I thought you were going to die. I didn't have time for shoes," I said walking to the back,"Where did the tree fall?"

"That's so sweet, Nadene, in the office,"

I went to the back and there in the office was the tree. It went straight threw and landed on the desk.

"Good thing you weren't sitting here when it happened," I shut the door behind me and found Bethany ready to leave and she was holding a pair of red rain boots.

"I had an extra pair in my trunk and I have wool leggings and a sweater," She told me.

I smiled and took her clothing,"Thanks, I guess I should have thrown on pants," I had on an over sized shirt that hit mid thigh,"Yeah, pants might have been good,"

"It's OK, you thought I was going to die. I'll call Richard to let him know. See you tomorrow,"

And I watched her leave. The rain loud against the ground outside as the door slowly closed behind her.

And then I was in silence and an unsettling feeling came over me and I shivered.

"Fuck,"

* * *

I stared at the ceiling for few minutes. My eyes adjusted and I pulled on my glasses. In the office was a couch and blanket and I had fallen asleep there sometime around one after I had locked all the doors. It was still raining out, not as bad as before, but still raining. I sat up, stretching. The blanket fell from around my shoulders as I reached for my phone to check the time.

7:30 am.

Great, I only slept for four hours. My knees creaked as I stood from the low couch. My stomach grumbled and I opted to go get something to eat. I still had a few hours until my shift started so I decided to stop by Burger King. The air outside was thick and my glasses fogged the minute I stepped outside. The rain was light, but consistent. I fumbled for my keys and got in sure to clean my glasses and turn on my wipers before I headed out.

At the drive though the woman at the window was eerily chipper as she handed me my bag of food and coffee.

"Thanks," I said smiling awkwardly at her as she hummed while she handed me my change. It wasn't much a dollar at most so I tossed it into the tip jar. I didn't think it was possible for her to smile any bigger, but she did.

"Thank you! You are such a kind person," She quipped.

"Yeah, thanks," I quickly rolled up my window and drive off. Freaky chipper people. It's too early for that mess. In between the drive as I idle at stop signs and stop lights I gulp down as much food as I can. I've never been so hungry. I didn't even eat dinner last night before I decided to play hero. I scoff remembering how the intruder was just a fallen tree. Bethany played it off well- terrified and shocked. I groaned realizing that I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have stayed and took her shift. She was there before me- it was her shift.

A horn blasted behind me and I held up my hand in the rear view mirror, glancing at the light I see it's changed. I noticed my dial for my gas tank was almost empty. I should have enough to get home and to the gas station down the street. The drive back to my house was quick. I needed to shower and get a change of clothes, even my own shoes for god sake. When I entered my house the air was cool and welcoming. I could hear the TV playing in the living room. I kicked off my borrowed rain boots and trudge upstairs. I'll get the TV after I shower and dress.

* * *

Glancing in the mirror I swept my hair to the side to apply mascara and lip balm. I grabbed the headband from my drawer and pulled it over my unruly mess of hair. There's no point in doing anything with it- it's too muggy out. I ran my hands down my jeans and sighed. It's just another day of work. You can do this. I slipped on a black hoodie over my white t shirt and headed back downstairs. I could return the rain boots to Bethany or use them all day? I made my way to my kitchen and tossed my bag of empty food and my coffee cup.

Suddenly, I realized I couldn't hear the TV.

It was off.

I know I had left it on.

Slowly, I turned around and the silence is deafening. It's pounding in my ear. That's when I see him. He's tall and large. He's wearing a hoodie that hugs his massive arms and it's zipped up. His hair is shoulder length and limp underneath his hood. I can't see his eyes or face, but I can see his jaw and it's clenched.

Fear slams into me and I realize I'm not moving. Why aren't I moving?

"Thelma," his voice is deep and breathy like he's been running. There's some recognition in it as well. Like he knows who that person in is.

But that's not my name.

Why is calling me by my grandmothers name?

I watch in silent horror as the man before me lowers his hood. It falls back limply his hair moving slightly. And I look into a hard frowned face with crazy blue eyes. It's not the frown that makes me run, but the way he looks at me. Like he knows me. And that scares me most of all.

I dart around my kitchen island throwing a muffin pan at him that he blocks. When it hits his arm, though, the sound of metal against metal snaps through the air and I look at him. Shocked, what the hell was wrong with this guy? I darted for the door and was pleased when it swung open and I threw myself into the heated air.

A blurry mass of green, filled my vision as I raced through the forest. Dodging between the lanky, spiny trees. A burning pain filled my lungs as I gasped for breath and my heart drummed fiercely beneath aching ribs.

"Thelma!"

Distracted by his urgent voice, I soon found myself launched from the soft ground and flying through the air. I landed painfully on my shoulder blades and tumbled down the slope of the forest floor, the needles poorly cushioning my fall. I let out a sharp cry, feeling a rib crack beneath me as I rolled straight into a rough-barked tree. Air escaped my lungs and I clawed at the ground willing my lips to pull the air back in. I laid there for a few moments until my vision began to clear and my hearing was less muffled. I could hear his feet stomping against the damp ground as he sped towards me.

Oh God, get up. Get up! I willed myself to a sitting position my hand launched to my side and I winced. One or two of my ribs were surely bruised or cracked. I managed to climb out of the small ditch I had rolled down into. My hands were muddy and cold as I pulled at the dirt and loose leaves to pull myself up. I fought through the pain and the headache that was blooming to dart behind a tree. I leaned against it, out of breath and sore. As much as I knew I shouldn't do it, I peeked around the tree trunk. There was no one there. I glanced at the other trees, the bushes, and at the ground for trails of feet, but nothing. I slid up the tree my arms clutched to my side before backing up. Spinning around to come face to face with a chest wearing a black hoodie.

I screamed and tried to run around him, but his arm was large and surprisingly strong, had stopped me.

"Get off! Let me go!" I hollered.

"Thelma," His voice was distant and sad as he took in my struggling form. His arm went limp and I stepped away shocked.

The man turned to me his face contorted into a heartbreaking frown. His eyes were so sad. He truly thought I was Thelma. He must've noticed my guard drop because he reached out again and I stepped away.

"No," I stated before taking off running.

I had made it back to my house. Slamming the door I locked it and quickly ran for my car. Filled with relief, I started it only for it to sputter and I realized what that sound meant. I had finally run out of gas.

"No!" I kicked at the dash and smacked the wheel. My hand clutching my side as my ribs reminded me they were hurt. Numb and angry I slipped from my car, shutting the door and making my way back into my house. I locked it and slid the deadbolt into place. Running a hand threw my grimy, wet and gross hair I remembered my phone.

A voice cut through the sound of my wet feet as they made their way across the floor to the stairs. My hand was resting on the banner when I heard it again.

"Why are you running from me?"

And that's when my eyes rolled into the back of my head and my knees give out.

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**And there is the first chapter. I hope you all like it. I'm new to the CA fandom and hope I'm doing this great character justice. Please, let me know what you think. I'm eager to get this story started so I may upload another chapter later on today. Thanks for stopping by:) Please review:)I welcome all kinds of feedback so don't be afraid to say what you really think.**


	2. I'll just whack him with a bat

**Here is chapter two like I promised! Its a bit shorter than the first chapter. The chapter lengths will vary form update to update. I know it's probably confusing and all since we all know Bucky has his memories wiped after every mission, but in my head canon- this takes place after CA:TWS (when he's on the run) and without his "appointments" for a wipe like he's used to- his mind is jumbling the past and present memories and he's not thinking straight, so bare with me. This is going to be a dark fic about the mind;D **

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Consciousness was slow in returning. I could feel my body becoming aware and when it did, the result was explosive. I shot bolt upright, my head whipped back and forth, disoriented for a moment by the combined strain of a serious exhaustion and the darkness that surrounded me. It took me a minute to make out the outline of the nearby furniture, and another to recognize the familiar shape of the window across from my bed. It was night out, and as my pounding head quelled just enough to restore my vision back to normal, I saw the full moon flanked by a scintillating arsenal of stars. I don't know why it calmed, but it did. The air was cool and my breathing was regulating. Tightness was around my rib cage and with shaky hands I felt at my torso through the sheets. I seemed to have been bandaged.

Confused, I pulled my legs out from under me and swung them over the bed. The hardwood was cold against my feet as I stood. I could make out the outline of my glasses on the bedside table. Once they were on I took in the large cup of water and the time.

8:30 pm.

I didn't go to work today? How'd I get in my bed? I was down stairs after...and then it all came flooding back and I glanced around my room. He was still here. I stayed still hoping to hear him meandering about down stairs, but it was as quiet as ever. I acted quickly moving towards my door I grabbed the wooden bat my father had given me when I moved out here, and opened my door. The stairs were directly below- I glanced across the hall at my spare room and the bathroom. I was expecting someone to come walking out of one of those doors and when they didn't I began my trek downstairs. I gripped the bat and tried to calm my breathing when I came around the corner.

He wasn't in the living room either.

Or in the kitchen.

Or in the house. Period.

He was gone.

The man with the steely blue eyes had vanished.

I couldn't believe it. He was gone!

Relieved, I checked all my doors and called 911.

* * *

"Now, you said this man came out of nowhere?" The officer asked me for the third time.

For some reason halfway through the questioning this cop had a set opinion about me. I could see it in his eyes and knew he was taking in my appearance. My air was a mess, mascara was gooped under my eyes and my hoodie was discarded and I only had my tank top on. I shifted my weight to the side and gawked at the officer when he suggested that I could have been drinking last night, had a one night stand and forgotten I had invited a man home with me. I was warned about this guy. I peered at his name tag. Officer David was known to be sexist towards women victims. Bethany had warned me about him after he was on the scene for her purse snatching. Of course, it was the females fault for holding her purse too low and not watching where she had put it.

"You know what? I'd really like it if you left, please," I stated bluntly looking up at him with arms crossed in defiance.

"Ma'am-,"

"No, it's OK, I'll just whack the guy with my bat next time I see him. Thanks again, Officer," I escorted him towards the door and slammed it behind him.

"Whack me with a bat?"

I stiffened at the sound of his voice and I looked up to see him standing by the top of the stairs leaning over the banister peering down at me.

"I thought we were friends, Thelma,"

"I don't know you," Was all I was able to choke out before he began to come down the stairs.

His eyes were glued to me as he came closer. I squirmed under his heated gaze and I could feel my body grow hot. I stayed glued to the door. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as he reached the last step. I could see him more clearly now, his face was handsome and his eyes were bright. You could tell he worked out by the way the cotton of his hoodie stretched over his arms and how broad his shoulders were. I never noticed before, but he was wearing a glove on only one hand, his right hand. His pants were dark- some type of military grade black pants, I guessed. His feet were heavy in dark combat boots and I watched them grow nearer until he was standing in front of me. I could feel his body heat as he looked down at me. I could see the shadow he cast over me. And feel my heart hammering in my chest as I raked my eyes up his body to his vibrant blues. The way he was looking at me was reminiscent of his gaze he had for me earlier, but this- this was different. This was a million and one secrets flashing before his eyes. A million and one unspoken words between him and Thelma.

"You know I don't believe that," He whispered leaning into me. His breath was hot against my forehead and I gasped when his right hand pressed hard against my hip, my eyes darting to his.

And that's when he kissed me.

And I slapped him.

He stepped back his eyes clouding over briefly before he grabbed me by the throat. His hand tightened and I gasped for air clawing at his wrist.

"Thelma," His voice tore threw me. He sounded so hurt.

So hurt that I, who he thought was Thelma, would slap him across the face. I gasped as my vision began to spot. You have to think of something fast, Nadene, or this man is going to kill you.

"I'm...sorry!" I choked out and I felt his hold on me loosen, "You've been gone for so long," I hoped this was going to work. No- I prayed this was going to work.

He stepped back his feet unsteady, and I watched him sink to the ground in front of me, his strong arms reaching up to wrap around my waist as he kneeled before me. He pressed the side of his face to my stomach and pulled me close to him. His arms tightly wound around my body.

"I don't know what anything is anymore," He whispered against my stomach. His voice was low and I shuddered as I felt it vibrate through me.

I sucked in a breath my mind willing my body not to panic as I reached out, slowly to place a hand on his head. He kept repeating that same line over and over again and I realized that he wasn't crying or shattering to pieces, but chanting to himself. Like it was something he needed to remember. I placed my other hand on his shoulder and he relaxed a bit. His lips were still moving- I could feel them - the heat of his breath was on my stomach as he chanted over and over again. He was like a broken record stuck on a timeless loop.

"I don't know what anything is anymore,"

Suddenly his hold on me went slack and I watched him catapult away from me. His body was rigid again and he eyed me closely as he stood up. Brows furrowed he leaned into me again and I cringed back into the door. Both of his hands slammed down beside my head, his arms locked, and his body imprisoning me against my front door.

"You're not Thelma," He growled.

I could lie again or I could tell the truth- they say the truth sets you free.

"I'm not Thelma. My name is Nadene," I explained my voice shaking as each word fumbled from my quivering lips.

"You look like her," His eyes roamed down my body again before snapping up to my eyes, "but you're not her. You're too light,"

"I-,"

His fist slammed into the door past my head and I screamed bringing my arms up to cover my face from the splinters. In this moment I realized that his hand was stuck and he was struggling to pull it back out of the door. If I don't move now the next blow will surely be my head. I darted out from under his arm only to be pawed at by his free hand. Shit, his arms are long! I managed to dodge his fingers, but I didn't count his leg coming out to trip me.

I slammed into the floor with such force that my glasses slid across the floor and my head split open, blood trickling down my forehead. I hissed placing a palm to my wound as I turned over, my ribs were throbbing.

"Oh, God," I seethed threw clenched teeth as tears slid down my cheeks.

He loomed over me. Large feet placed firmly beside both hips, trapping me once again in his grasp. I tried to get out of his hold, but he only tightened it kneeled down on top of me. I was pulled up by the straps of my tank top and a sudden need to cover myself wafted over me, but I dared not move.

"If your not Thelma, then what are you doing living in her house?"

Why in the hell does he think I'm my grandmother?!

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**And end chapter. I told you it was going to be a crazy ride! Be sure to review! I'd love to hear your amazing thoughts on Bucky's complete 180 of mood swings:) Chapter three might be up tomorrow. I'm not sure yet.**


	3. What the fuck just happened?

**Thank you for all the follows and favorites. I appreciate it:) I know it seems to be slow and at the moment, but the storyline will be picking up in the next few chapters. You just have to bare with me for a bit:) Without further ado- here is the new chapter!:)**

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"I'm not going to ask you again!" He hollered above me.

"I'm sorry!" I cried out as he shook his wrist causing me to rattle along with it,"She doesn't live here anymore!"

"Where did she go?"

I stared up at him. How could he have known my grandmother? She died when I was fifteen. The way he had said her name was as if he was in love with her. He doesn't look too much older than me. Maybe twenty seven or even thirty, but-

"Answer me!"

His anger had reached a boiling point and I saw his hand inch closer to my throat. I needed to get him away from the thought of strangling me to death. I panicked and screamed out the first thing that came to mind.

"She's dead, you fucker! She's been dead for twelve years!"

He shuddered and his eyes stilled on mine. His lips were moving, but nothing was coming out and I realized he was counting. I squirmed beneath him and to my surprise his hold had once again went slack as he retreated into his mind. I quickly shuffled back away from him, the heel of my hand hit my glasses and I put them on to watch him mentally shut down in HD. I had pressed my back against the wall and watched him.

His eyes were obscured by his dark wavy hair, but I could see his lips were still moving. They were plump and wet as his tongue darted in between them. Finally, his head lifted and our eyes met from across the room. I swallowed hard and tightened my hands into fist ready to fight if I had too. Only he just looked at me. His face wasn't of anger or rage, but of pure despair and loss. He was upset.

"Thirty-five," He said.

"Wh-what?"

"She was thirty-five when she died?" He asked. I could tell he was unsure and I shouldn't have answered so quickly, but I didn't care.

"No, she was eighty four. She died in 2002," I told him.

His face hardened and I watched the anger bubble up again. He let out an angry cry, standing up. I jerked back at his quick movement and could only watch as he threw the door open running into the darkness that had set hours ago.

What the fuck just happened?

* * *

I'm not sure how long I sat on my floor hugging my knees to my chest, crying my eyes out as I stared into the dark outside my door. I could feel the temperature drop. I could hear the bugs committing suicide as the bug zapper zapped. I had somehow gotten enough wits back to close my door, lock it and make my way upstairs to my room, to my bed. I was still laying in my clothes underneath the blanket, but I welcomed the sleep that came. My night was filled with terrors of the man with dead blue eyes. He was chasing me through the woods, screaming for Thelma. I know I was moving fast, I was willing myself too, but nothing ever good came from it. I was always strangled to the brink of death, my vision clouding, his face strained and blurred. Nothing ever good came from me shutting my eyes.

A delicate hand on my shoulder caused my eyes to snap open and I had thought that he had found a way back in, but Bethany stood shocked, slack jawed, staring at me-no, at my hand. I glanced down to see a butcher knife clutched in my left hand. I had forgotten that I had taken this from my kitchen last night.

"Nadene? What the hell?" She had stepped back her hands raised cautiously as she eyed me.

"I'm sorry," I choked out tossing the knife to the floor. It clattered loudly and I ran my hands over my face.

"Are you okay? I came to check on you after you didn't show to work yesterday. You didn't get any of my calls?"

"No, I haven't," I responded shuffling past her picking up the knife to set it on my desk by the door.

"What happened to your door?" She asked following me downstairs when I decided to put the knife back.

An image of the outraged man shoving his fist through the door shot through me and I shuddered as I placed the knife in its drawer.

"Nadene!"

Bethany's voice was blunt and alarmed and I looked up at her shocked that she was yelling,"Are you even listening to me? God, what the hell happened to you? Are you going through one of those depression things? If you are, I have no time for your mood swings," She complained sitting at the stool at the counter. Her lanky arms rested on their elbows as she set her chin her hands, watching me.

"No, I'm not. Something happened yesterday," I started to speak, but her shrill ringtone bounced off the walls and she pulled out her phone, holding up a finger.

"Yeah?"

She talked rapidly into her cell and I fidgeted on antsy feet. Only a few more seconds until I can spill my day to her. I waited patiently, but her phone call soon grew longer and longer and I picked at a hang nail on my thumb suddenly engrossed in my peeling skin. After ten minutes of mindless rambling to who I assumed was her boyfriend she hung up spinning to me and I plastered a strained smile on my face. Bethany reached for her purse on the counter, slinging it on her shoulder as she sighed.

"Sorry about that. I have ten more minutes before my lunch date with David- spill," She ordered with a stern look.

I stared at her with pursed lips.

"Uh, I'm not depressed. There was an-," her phone buzzed again and I stared blankly as she checked it. Her fingers tapped quickly across the touch screen as she responded to a text, glancing up when she finished.

"I'm so sorry, but David is really insisting I get there now- something about the damn reservations," She sighed running her hand threw her dirty blonde tresses. Bethany smiled awkwardly at me and groaned again as her phone beeped. She didn't even look at it,"Nay, I really have to go-I'm so sorry. I would stay and listen to you explain why there's a gaping hole in your door and you've been AWOL for a day and a half, but David is being really persistent. Just promise me you're not depressed before I walk out your door, okay?"

I knew why she was bailing. She had an inkling that David was planning on proposing to her. A few weeks ago when she had answered his phone it was someone saying that his ring had gotten in. He of course, didn't know that that was the call-she played it off as some unknown number. I could see it in her eyes that she was eager to leave more than she was eager to stay to see if I was actually depressed. Even though I wasn't it still hurt.

I shook my head,"I'm not, I promise. I just got angry and decided to wreck my...old door," I BS'd.

"I'll call you after the lunch. No more angry she-hulk moments, okay?" Bethany's hand was on the door handle before the sentence was even out of her mouth and the door was swung open with her half out the door by the last word of it.

"Got it. Go get your ring," I responded hanging by the door to watched her stride to her car. I waved goodbye to her as she pulled out and she hollered out her window at me.

"This is it! I can feel it,"

And then she was gone and I was alone again. I rested my head on the wood and wavered a moment before shutting it. I locked it and set the dead bolt then went to each and every door and window and secured them all. I wasn't hungry or even thirsty so I wrapped up in my quilt and sat cross legged on the couch in front of the TV with my bat across my knees. I was flipping threw the channels when a news report in New York caught my eye. It was bad camera footage taken by a bystander of the attack that happened last month. Something about SHIELD and planes- I didn't follow much of it, but the footage had me frozen, my eyes locked in disbelief.

There on my screen was a figure of a man with shoulder length hair and an all black military ensemble stalking through a neighborhood a few towns over. The news cast said the footage was taken a week ago by a teenager. The video shifted in an urgent matter as the person holding the phone ducked behind a wall after being spotted. After a few tense moments the camera moved from its place behind the wall and the figure that was further away was now closer. Close enough that I could see the face of the man.

It was him.

I gawked at the screen and watched him step closer- he was agitated and unresponsive to the owner of the video as he tried to talk to him. His brow was furrowed and his lips were mumbling. They were moving in all familiar manner that left me speechless. I could make out just what he was saying over and over again.

Thelma.

* * *

******A/N: **

******A bit of a background on Thelma and Bucky. (not much- just a bit) I don't want to reveal anything, but their ages.  
**

******-Thelma Whitmore was b**orn in 1918. She was twenty-three in 1941- the year she met Bucky. Died in 2002, she was eighty-four.

**-James Buchanan Barnes was born in 1915 and met Thelma when he was twenty-six. They met while he was on leave before he was shipped out during WWll. He "died" a year later. Technically, he is ninety-nine, but looks twenty-seven.  
**

**-Nadene Wilson was born in 1989. Her grandmother, Thelma, died when she was fifteen. **

**It is 2014, twelve years later, and Nadene is now twenty-five. **

**I centered Bucky's age around the fact that in CA:TWS, Steve or someone, mentions that he's almost a hundred(technically) and they're fighting ninety year olds. I can't remember who said it exactly, but that's why Bucky is(realistically) so old and I wanted him older than Steve by a few years because I got the bigger brother vibe from their friendship. And I'm sure his actual birthday is somewhere, but this works for my AU. **

**Hope that wasn't too confusing! Please leave me a few thoughts on this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it:)**


	4. Not Thelma

Thanks so much for the 7 reviews, 20 favorites and 47 followers. I'm glad so many are enjoying my story.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters belonging to the Captain America franchise. If I did Bucky would not be such a lonely man because my OC Nadene would be keeping him company.

Without further ado, I present to you Chapter 4: Not Thelma.

* * *

I sat in the middle of the attic with a hundred or more photos littered around me. This was how my grandmother used to show me her life when I was younger. She'd pull me up the rickety steep steps and sit me on the floor while she rummaged through her photos, showing me every one. There was always a story to every photo-a reason why she was wearing that dress, where she was going, where she was coming from- there was always a reason. I remember one photo had slipped from the bunch in her hand and I had picked it up for her.

It was of her and a white man in a uniform smiling in front of her house. I remember asking her about it and was shocked that she had snatched it away from me. She had ended our session hours early and we left the attic and never came back up. I was twelve then. She got sick later in that year and stayed sick until the day she died when I was fifteen.

I sighed, I was never going to find this picture. My stomach growled and I realized I hadn't eaten anything all day. The sun was high in the sky when I glanced out the window. It must be noon, I thought standing up on sore legs. The last box was now empty and I stared at the pale yellow paper and fading pink flowers.

I scooped a few of the photos off the floor and into the box and headed downstairs. I need a reset if I was to come back up and continue my search. The potato salad I made last night was calling to me. Two pieces of bread were tossed into the toaster and I had poured some apple juice when my phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered balancing my cell between my cheek and shoulder as I pulled the toast out and set them on my plate.

"Nadene,"

"Oh, Richard! Hi, what uh, shit," As I was piling a scoop of potato salad onto the bread my spoon slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I dropped my spoon. What's up?" I asked fetching a new spoon and finishing my task.

"You're coming in tomorrow, right?"

Frowning, I glanced at my calendar on the fridge,"Uh, yeah. I work tomorrow, why?"

"Bethany told me you were acting funny the other day. Are you alright?" he asked.

"Oh, uh-,"

"Then a cop had stopped by asking if anyone was seen following you or if you were worried someone was following you,"

"What?"

"He came by today and asked us all these questions. Even asked if you were known to have one night stands. Why is there a cop investigating you, Nadene? Did something happen?"

I grimaced and slid into my seat with my juice and plate,"It was that sexist cop wasn't it, Officer David?," I didn't wait for him to respond,"Look, someone broke into my house, but didn't take anything. I'm fine. I'm going to get new locks and better security so don't freak out, Richard," I explained between bites of my sandwich. It's kind of scary how easily I can lie, but I felt like I could figure out this man and who he was to my grandmother.

"We all know you're not that type of woman, but Amelia made me call. I guess we'll see you tomorrow,"

"Yeah, oh could you come by later on?" I asked.

"Finally inviting me over?" His voice had dropped a bit and I realized he was trying to flirt.

"My tank is on empty. I just need more gas, Richard," I deadpanned.

I heard his sigh on the other end,"Fine, I'll be over after my shift,"

"Thanks. See ya tomorrow," I hung up cutting off what was sure to be him asking me out.

I slid my phone across the table and finished my sandwich. That man hadn't been back since I told him what happened to Thelma and its been a few days. I had managed to keep the swelling of my lip down with ice and had sprayed Neosporin on my cut and slapped a bandaid on my forehead. After I watched a bit of TV I ventured back up to the attic. OK, this photo is in here, I know it is. I lingered in the door way my eyes drifting to every photo on the ground. Wait, there it was! I rushed over to the foot of the old formal chair, keeping my eyes plastered to the photo afraid that if I looked away it'd disappear. I snatched up the photo and looked it over. Yep, this was the one. He looked the same now as he did then minus the shoulder length hair and the scowl. In this photo, in 1942, he was happy. I flipped it over and saw my grandmothers elegant handwriting in black ink.

'James and I enjoying lunch'.

This must be the lunch she had with her parents that she never spoke about. I never got a sure answer out of her before she died. There were other photos of that day-I could tell by the dates and her dress, but in those photos this 'James' was cut from the photo. I stepped over the photos and hurried back downstairs to my laptop in my room. I set the photo face down and stared at her writing at the bottom.

'March 6th, 1942 Sunday lunch with the parents'

Why was he cut from the photos? This puzzled me for a few moments until it dawned on me. It was 1942. Interracial anything was frowned upon and for my grandmother to be in a relationship with this white man would have caused an uproar in the community and the family.

I turned my attention back to the laptop and typed in his name. All I had was Bucky and that he was a soldier in 1942. The information that had popped up was astounding. He was a war hero-helped Captain America, who was his best friend since childhood, defeat the Nazis in WW2. It said that he was thought KIA until Captain America had found him in Germany where he later was killed. He had a memorial erect at The Smithsonian. His full name was James Buchanan Barnes. I chewed on my pen cap as my hand scribbled down the information. I could go to the police with this information, I'm sure they're looking for him. S.H.I.E.L.D probably is as well.

Whatever he's gone through to keep him alive this long-I bet it was what did the trick for Steve-has really done a number on his mind. Cryogenics most likely. He seems to trust me at least when he thinks I'm Thelma. Maybe I can help him? No, Nadene, don't be stupid. He's an unstable super soldier with a fucked up head that causes his memories to scramble. I sighed and leaned back in my chair running my hands over my face.

"Nadene?" My name sounded funny on his lips and I swiveled around to see him sitting on my bed.

"Your name is Nadene?" He asked looking up at me, his brow creased in concentration. I nodded.

"Yes,"

"You're not Thelma,"

"No, I'm not," I answered hesitantly. His hands unclenched and clenched as his mind mulled over my answer. I was rigid with anticipation of an attack. Every little movement caught my eye, his lips pulling in between his teeth, the slight shake of his head, his eyes moving under his closed lids.

"You're James Buchanan Barnes, right?" I asked.

His eyes met mine. They were dark and distant,"I don't know,"

"How, uh, how do you not know your own name, but remember Thelma?" I worried I may have been asking way past the line, but all this man, James, has been doing since we met was scream at me. And now that he's actually a bit calm and started a 'civil' conversation with me I was going to take advantage of it.

"I don't know," He was trembling now and I didn't want him to flip out again.

"I can get you some water?" I asked standing up quickly. At my sudden movement he sprung to his feet his head ducking as he realized I wasn't a threat.

"Come on," I slipped past him and quickly headed downstairs to my kitchen. His feet were heavy behind me and he stood awkwardly by the island while I poured him a glass.

"Here," he took the cup that I slid across to him and gulped the water quickly. My hands held the pitcher and refilled his glass three times before he sat down. He seemed to relax and so did I. I stayed on the other side of the island of course, studying the man before me. His hair was slightly damp and his boots were covered in mud. Where did he go and how did her in here? All my doors are locked.

"How'd you get in here?" I blurted.

He peered up at me his lips pulled into a small smirk,"How I always do,"

"I climbed into your room," he told me standing up.

I tensed as he rounded the corner of the island walking closer to me, closing the gap between us. His hands, one still gloved, took the pitcher from my grasp and set it on the counter. I looked up at him. His face was unshielded-no frown. He was relaxed and his eyes were glassed over as he smirked down at me.

"I leave on Sunday," his voice was low in my ear and I shuddered when his hands rested on my hips.

His body leaned against mine and his knee shifted between my legs-he moved closer to me and my breath hitched in my throat when his lips touched my neck. Why-why was he doing this? I gasped when his lips kissed at the sweet spot below my ear. My body reacted to it, my back arched and I hadn't realized my fingers had slid up his arms until they gripped the fabric of his hoodie.

My eyes fluttered shut when he moved his body against mine. I shouldn't be enjoying this, but it was like my body was in a trance. I couldn't help that I was aroused. His touch, his lips, his breath was all my mind could comprehend until he whispered my name, breathy and low. James' gloved hand slid up my stomach ghosting over my breast to grip my jaw lightly. He turned my head to him whispering,"I've been waiting so long for this, love,"

His lips pressed against mine. Sparks fluttered throughout me and my mouth tingled with every kiss. I've been without intimacy for so long that my body was-oh, God, he was a good kisser. James' knee parted my legs and his thigh settled against me moving slightly causing a moan to escape me.

His hands gripped the back of my knees and picked me up placing me on the counter. His breath was heavy and labored as he kissed me with such a ferocity that I was loosing all senses to pure pleasure. Everything was moving so fast that I was lost in it until he spoke again between kisses that trailed to my collar bone.

"Are you sure you're ready, Thelma?"

"Thelma?" I whispered, my mind starting to make sense of things,"Thelma? Oh, no," I gasped my hands stilling on his shoulders. I pushed him away tugging at my t-shirt. I looked at him and his eyes were still glassed over, his cheeks flushed and he leaned in again his mind still stuck in the memory.

"Wait,"

"We can't wait. I leave Sunday. We've talked about this," he responded trying again, but I placed a hand on his chest,"James." I stated and that seemed to break the spell because he blinked and his face contorted back into the frown I've been accustomed to. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes took in the scene before him. In the heat of it all James had pulled at my shirt. It was already loose, but now it sagged against my shoulder my bra strap tugged down. To watch his mind catch up and speed past the memory to the present was unsettling. His face was so hurt that he choked out my name.

"Nadene?" It was like it was poison and he stepped back,"Not Thelma. Not Thelma," his eyes squeezed shut and I slid off the counter.

"James? Calm down," I reached for him.

"It's not Thelma. Nadene. Her name is Nadene," his shoulders shook and I watched his hands clench before he opened his eyes to look at me.

They weren't sweet and calm anymore. His chilling blues were stormy and raging with anger now. And glassed over. He was still in his mind. Another memory. A darker memory. Instead of engaging me like I thought he backed up into the island pulling himself up and over swiftly putting distance between us. I watched him roll off of it landing on his feet.

"The cellar in the basement. It's still there?" He ordered.

I could only nod and watch him tug open the basement door disappearing into the dark as he descended. I rushed ahead slamming the door shut. There was only one way out-my grandfather had to seal in the back door after it kept flooding decades and decades ago- he would have to come up here to leave. I only used the basement to do laundry and hold my canned goods. I used to play down there as a kid. It was perfect for hiding during hide-and-go-seek. No one would find me down there because they said it was creepy and they were right. The cellar was dark and had one light switch and a full shelfing system of canned goods. Mostly canned fruit. There was an old couch with an even older throw blanket. At least he would be somewhat comfortable. Was this considered holding someone prisoner? He did go down there willingly-he did a lot of things willingly. The memory of his lips on me slithered back and I pressed my fingers to my lips.

They weren't for me. The kisses and the moans and the want and the need were all for Thelma. She, a twenty three year old African American woman was having an affair with a white American soldier, in 1942. It couldn't have been just a couple of months fling, not with the way he looked at me. No, this had to of happened over the span of years-had to. My brow creased and I leaned against the door, my arms crossed in concentration.

What did they do to him?

* * *

And there you have it. I told you it was going to pick up! I'm having so much fun writing this. I can't wait to read the reviews on this chapter. I know the 'make out' seemed to spring up fast, but there's a reason for it, trust me. But how about that? If you're looking for a story that has a Sexy-in-need-of-touching-mentally-distraught-god-of-a-man-playing-out-heated-memories-of-sexy-times-with-your-grandma-who-he-seems-to-think-you-are-because-his-memories-were-erased-for-him-to-become-the-Winter-Soldier-and-now-his-past-and-present-memories-are-jumbled then you've come to the right place!

Hit that review button at the bottom of the page and leave a few encouraging or discouraging words, whichever you choose.


	5. Broken Ankle

I wanted to apologize for being absent for so long. It's been a busy month. I hope you all enjoy this chapter:) It's over 4,000 words:)

**Counting Sinful Stars:** Her appearance will be described in this chapter.

**Iinvalidzz:** Thank you! I hope this chapter lives up to the previous!

**kamiccolo's rose:** Thank you!

**angel897:** I'm glad you're enjoying it.

**Countess Delos**: I was so worried it was going to be too far fetched, but everyone seems to like it so far!:)

**JustKeepSmilingRainbow:** Wait no longer. Chapter 5 is up:)

**BrokenAngel1753:** When I was figuring out the ages I had planned on Nadene being younger at 25, but wanted her to be older. My math was correct, but not for the age I had described in the passage. I'm truly sorry about that! I'll try to correct it as best I can since I want her to be 27 because James is "27", but since it's been a few years since the first Captain America he's technically closer to 30. And I'm overjoyed that you're liking this story so far. I was a bit worried about it since I've never written a CA fic and I don't know much about the comics. I'm going solely off of what's happened in the movies and what little I've been able to incorporate into the fic from the comics. Thelma and James' life will be known eventually. I'm still working on their backstory, but Bucky/James will be saying a few things that hint to what it was like with Thelma. And soon Nadene will be going on a hunt of her own.

* * *

He hasn't come out since last night. I didn't want to leave him down here without food for the entire day while I was working so, I rounded up the courage to venture down into the spooky basement. I hardly came down here anymore- I mean when I had laundry to do I'd come down, but even that was quick.

The tray was heavy with a mountain of cheesy eggs, bacon and buttered toast with some garlic and herbs. A glass was filled with cold ice water and it was hard to balance it all. As I cautiously made my way down the old rickety steps I hoped I didn't fall. The water sloshed out of the tall glass and spilled against my hand causing me to loose my balance on the last step. My heeled foot jutted out and landed awkwardly on the ankle as I stumbled for balance. My hold on the tray tightened as I fell and I hit the ground with a scream and an awkward grunt.

"Shit," I hissed at the pain in my left ankle and the contents of the breakfast I had made stuck in my hair.

"Shit, fucking great," I groaned rolling around onto my back I propped myself up on my elbows and grimaced. I looked past my wet dress to see my ankle through the cut outs on the heel of the shoe, it is black and blue.

"Damn it,"

The door to the back room opens and I see a pair of boots. James stood before me and smirked.

"Missed the step?" He asked.

I nodded,"I was bringing you breakfast,"

He saw me cringe and the tears flood my eyes as the pain intensified. I watched him sit on his knees at my feet and grasp my heel in his hands. His fingers were warm against my dark skin as he felt at the flesh. James started mid shin and worked his way down, his fingers stilling when I kicked my foot in his lap and cried out. His one hand was still gloved and I wondered if he was just badly injured like a burn or something.

"It's broken," He stated calmly.

"You can tell by just looking at it?" I snapped.

"Your ankle is swollen and your skin is bruised," He told me looking up at me through a curtain of dark hair,"Tell tale signs of a broken bone,"

I sucked in a breath at the sight of his bright blue eyes. My stomach flopped and my core fluttered. I remembered how he felt against me and bit my lip. I just realized the position we were in. I was on my back, on my elbows watching him hold my foot in his lap and my dress was hiked up and my legs were parted.

I quickly pulled my foot away and attempted to stand James stood up as well. The minute I applied pressure to my foot it gave out and I tumbled forward.

"Damn it!" I hissed as James grabbed me by the waist to steady me. I swatted his hand away and made my way to the steps. I hopped up the first and the second-made it halfway up until I was out of breath. It wheezed past parted lips and I could feel the small of my back dampen with sweat. My grip on the banister tightened and I sighed turning to look over my shoulder at James, who had picked up the broken glass and dishes and he was setting them on the dresser when I called to him.

"Uh, can you help me, please?" I asked my voice wavering as another pang of pain greeted me.

James looked at me for a long time his brow was furrowed and his jaw tight. He seemed to be trying to get his bearings before he came up, he wanted his mind in the present.

When he finally decided to move towards me my heart was beating fast. I needed to get my own mind right. This man was dangerous and something was wrong with his memory. Those kisses, the love in his eyes weren't for me. I needed to get that out of my head. James stood tall even on the step behind me. I could feel his body heat and his breath as he sucked in air through parted lips to blow it out his nose. He slipped his non gloved hand around my waist and I was surprised when he placed his other hand under my knees, bringing me up. I was startled and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He pulled me flush against him and began to walk up the stairs. I know I'm a small, short woman, but I've had my fair share of chocolate bars and late night snacks, but he carries me with such ease. I try not to look at his face much. His hair is a dark brown, wavy and long. It brushes against my arms and I wonder what he'd look like if he pulled it into a ponytail, or a half updo or one of those mini messy guy buns. Lost in my thought I hadn't realized that he was walking outside my house until I heard a bird.

"Woah! You didn't have to take me out here, James," I chided trying to wiggle from his arms, but he only held me tighter and walked to my jeep. He opened the passenger door, I really should start locking my doors, and set me in the seat. Without any words he handed me my seatbelt and shut the door.

I looked out the back and saw him go back inside to return with the hoodie he had on when I first saw him and my purse.

My ankle had dulled to a slow throb with sharp pains shooting throughout. I reached for it instinctively like my hold on it was going to make it better. I watched him open the driver door, pull on his hoodie, and get in slamming the door loudly.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

James put the key in the ignition and turned to me,"Starting your car," as if to make it any more obvious he turned the key and the engine growled to life.

"Why?"

"Your ankle is broken,"

"I can throw some ice on it, pop some ibuprofen, wrap it and wear my converses for support. No biggie. I have to get to work," I responded reaching for the door handle, but James had pulled out of my long driveway.

"You did that on purpose,"

"Your ankle is broken," he repeated.

I sighed and crossed my arms. I decided to reach for my purse and call my manager, of course the one time I needed to reach him he doesn't answer.

"Motherfucker!" I said tossing my phone back into my purse.

James turned to me when we were stopped at a light. I looked back hoping he was going to look away. He was just looking at me. And he kept looking at me.

"Are you going to drive or just stare at me all day?" I gestured to the now green light.

"The Hospital is still behind that tall bookstore?" He asked.

"It's a daycare now, but yeah it's still there," I glanced at him,"You've been there before?"

He didn't say anything, but I noted how his hands tightened on the steering wheel and decided not to push it. Every now and then I would sneak glances at him. He had attacked me and caused me harm just this week, but now, the following Monday of a very stressful week and a weird 'I thought you were Thelma' make out, he's driving me to the Hospital like-like a man from the Fourties. The thought hit me like the pain in my ankle. All at once and it lingered.

I needed to find more out about the relationship they had. I needed to know what happened to him, why he didn't look ninety years old, why he wore just one glove, and why his mind was a mess and only my grandmother seemed to be the one constant in his brain. I could just ask him, but that could cause him to freak and I really needed to get to the Hospital. I'll ask him when we get home.

He pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine tucking my keys into his left pocket. As he got out and made his way around to me I tugged my purse over my shoulder and opened my door. I guess I was too slow for him because he reached across me and undid my seatbelt. With ease he pulled me from my seat and into his arms.

"You don't have to carry me! I can walk," I said.

"No you can't," he was blunt,"We're too far for you to hop all the way there, Nadene. I can carry you. No ones out here,"

I shut my mouth and frowned at him,"Fine, but if you're going to carry me, make sure I'm not flashing anyone," I sarcastically said.

James was caught off guard by my words and I could feel his fingers beneath my legs feel for the skirt of my dress.

"Hey! Don't check. It was a joke, I don't feel a draft. You're good,"

He only nodded and carried me up to the doors. And for some reason he set me down right outside the doors and moved away from me as if I were fire. Then I realized that he's only ever known the Fourties and their racism. I reached for him and he jerked back frowning at me.

"James,-," but the doors slid open and a nurse was next to me. She must've seen him carry me up because she had a wheelchair and was coaxing me into it. The pain seemed to flare up more now that I was in the hands of medical doctors. I looked over my shoulder to see James pop up his hood as a cop car drove past. He didn't even glance back at me just walked back to my jeep.

* * *

I tapped on the window and his eyes fluttered open. He reached to roll down the window, but frowned at all the buttons and decided on just opening the door.

"Crutches?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I broke it pretty badly. You were right as much as I didn't want to believe it. I'm going to hate these things-wish I didn't have them," I explained to him when he eyed the crutches under my arms,"I also have the greatest pain pills ever," I smiled at him.

A silence spread across us and I sighed,"You could have come in with me,"

"No, I couldn't have,"

"James, Racism is illegal now. It's been illegal since 1964," I told him.

"I know that. They made me watch a historical documentary," He shot back.

"Oh, then why did you not come in?"

"I don't know you and there are cameras," he swung the door shut ending our conversation.

I stood there watching him through the glass. I hobbled to the other side and pulled myself in after tossing the crutches in the back.

James didn't say anything just started the car and drove off.

I bit my lip and kept glancing at him.

"Would you like to get to know me?" I asked. That question had been swimming around in my head for minutes before I actually said it. I don't know why I wanted to help him so badly. Maybe it was because he knew my grandmother and he was apart of something Super Hero-ish. Everyone knows of the Avengers and the Battle of New York.

"No,"

"What? You're the one who attacked me and demanded I tell you where she was, my Grandmother that is. You even kissed me with the idea that I was her. I know you're some big shot villain/enemy person because all that black does not scream Patriotism or 'I'm here to fight the bad guys' you even wear a glove on one hand. One hand. Look, I saw the reports in DC, James. I've gone through hell this week and haven't run to the cops-except for that one time, but not after that. Have you stopped to wonder why? I want to help you. So why the hell would you say no?" I seethed the anger of this past week had bubbled up and exploded.

James pulled into my driveway and turned to me, both of his hands were still gripping the wheel. His eyes were ablaze with the anger I've come to fear and I stilled as his steely blue eyes bore into me.

"You look like her. Too much like her," He said,"You have her nose, her smile and her dark skin. Every time I look at you I see Thelma. The only thing keeping you from becoming her fully are your eyes. They're the only thing not the same. Too light, so no, I don't want to get to know the woman who looks like the woman I will never see again," James told me.

I huffed and blew out hot air glancing out the window before turning to him,"Why are you telling me this? You've never said more than five words to me. I know you're hurting-I can see it, but in order for you to get better, in order for me to help you I need you to trust me. And trusting comes with knowing," I had decided that yelling at him could only trigger another episode so I took the calmer approach. He was still gripping the steering and his jaw was still tight as he lulled over my words.

"I don't need your help,"

"And yet you keep coming back,"

James looked at me and I saw the change in his face. His muscles weren't rigid with anger anymore instead they had relaxed just a bit. It didn't last long because his face hardened again and he opened the door slamming it shut behind him.

He didn't even ask if I needed help inside.

* * *

He was upstairs in the attic. His legs were dangling form the opening in the ceiling. I hadn't even realized he was up there until I came upstairs myself to go to lay in bed and watch sappy Lifetime Movies. I stood underneath his legs looking up with a hand on the stairs wondering if I should go up. He seemed to have relaxed a bit around me. He wasn't freaking out as much as before and I hoped it was because he was getting used to me or maybe tired of scaring me to death?

"What are you looking for?" I asked him and he peered down at me.

"A picture of her," He said.

I listened to him shuffle around the many photos on the floor above. There were so many of her- why was he still looking?

James came down the ladder and he stepped down beside me holding out a photo of my young grandmother.

I did look like her. More than my mother had and I was mixed with Italian. My mother had met my father when she had gone to study abroad for College in Italy in the early '70s. My mother was darker than me-so was my grandmother, but I had the same jawline as she did. My lips were fuller than hers and I was shorter and not as developed. Our hair was different, mine was curlier and lighter and the muddy brown tone really made my hazel eyes pop. I was a good mix of my parents- with my mothers wide eyes and my father straight nose I couldn't be mistaken for anyone else's child, but as I stared at the photo of my grandmother my mind ran through all the ways I could have been mistaken for her. I can see why he was so taken aback by me.

"I guess you're right. I do look like her," I said.

"Yes, you do," James said and I glanced up at him to see a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips as his eyes gazed at the photo in his hands.

"Would you like to see what she looked like older? I can show you her family? My mother? I think she looks more like Thelma then I do," I quickly asked.

His alluring blue eyes snapped to me and they were wide with what I guessed was excitement," Yes, I would,"

I smiled, "Put the stairs up and meet me in my room. I have the photo album on my bookshelf,"

As I made my way into my room to retrieve my photo album I was worried that James seeing Thelma with another man would cause him problems, but when he sat down on the floor beside my bed, he said no to sitting next to me on it, and I let him flip through the pages he only asked question after question. He was curious to see the life of his lover after he had "died". He was happy that she had found someone else even said it was better that it was someone of her own race because he knew he wouldn't be able to protect her as much as he would need to. I was tempted to ask him about their life together, how their affair had started, but I decided against it when he was staring at her wedding photo.

"She looks happy," He said his fingers tracing her fine silhouette,"Not as happy as when she was with me, but happy none the less,"

"She loved my grandfather very much even after he died never re-married," I explained from my seat on the bed. I was laying down next to him leaning over the edge to watch him go through the album.

"He died young?"

"He was shot and killed in '62. My mother was only twelve and my grandmother was a widow and a single mother. She was very strong throughout it and my mom always says she was strict and taught her that race didn't matter. I think that's why my mother had found my father so appealing. She didn't see him as white or Italian, but as a man," I told him.

"I don't see you as white. I see you as a man," James said softly.

"Yeah, that's what she always told her. My mom used to tell my dad that all the time,"

"She said that to me when she brought me to lunch to meet her parents," James' voice had taken on a low tone as if he was remembering, but I noticed how loose his body was and the recognition in his eyes when he looked at me.

Oh no. I watched with wide eyes when he sat up on his knees in front of me and I sucked in a breath when his fingers grazed my cheek. Just then I heard banging on my door downstairs and James went rigid, his eyes darkening as he blinked. The banging kept going and I could faintly hear Bethany yelling for me to open up. I sat frozen in place at the look on James' face. He was angry.

"Stop screaming at me. Stop it," He seethed his chest rising and falling heavily as he gripped the edge of the bed.

"No one's yelling at you, James," I quickly told him. He can't have an episode now. Not when Bethany is downstairs and I can't run.

"I can hear them. They're saying things. Saying he's not my friend. He let me die," His eyes were screwed shut and he was shaking.

"He didn't let you die, James. You're safe," I needed to calm him down before he went ape-shit and kills me.

His eyes snapped open and his hands shot out and gripped the sleeves of my dress, "But he did. He let me die," He yelled pulling me from the bed. My casted foot hit the ground and I screamed out in pain as he lifted me up by my dress.

"You let them take me, Thelma! What happened to our plan, huh? What happened!" He hollered tossing me to the ground.

My shoulder hit the corner of my desk and stars danced before me as I tried to concentrate on the figure stalking towards me. I rolled away from his grasp and crawled as best I could to my doorway. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I felt his hand wrap around my ankle and pull me back. SHIT. He was standing above me his hair hanging down around his face casting beautiful shadows across his handsome features. His hands wrapped around my throat and at first he didn't apply any pressure, but then I felt it and it was excruciating. The banging below had ended and I was left in silence and my shallow breathing. I tried to choke out words, but it wasn't working. My hands swatted at his chest, his arms. My fingers caught onto the hem of his leather arm sleeve and I pulled with all my might. If I got him off balance for just a bit I could land a swift kick to his balls.

I needed to hurry my mind was beginning to throw out random things I've never down and my vision was blurring. My brain was dimming from the lack of air. My fingers imbedded themselves into the fabric and I pulled. A tearing sound exploded in my ears and James had looked down at his sleeve surprised I had managed to do that. Caught off guard I brought my shin up hard between his legs and he growled and fell off of me. I gasped for breath, it filled my lungs so quickly I almost had no idea what to do with it. All my senses shifted back to normal and my vision was clear as I fell onto my side coughing desperately as my fingers felt at my throat. We really needed to figure out how to control that fucking temper of his before he actually does kill me. Maybe meditation? Relaxing Chai tea? A fucking straight jacket?

That's when I hear it.

The sobs.

I turn my gaze from my scratched up dirty floor to see James with his back against the bed, his head bowed, and his hand clutching at his arm.

His metal arm.

"Oh my God," I rasp out and his head lifts showing me his eyes are red and his face is wet.

"Look at what they did to me, Thelma," He croaked.

I could only stare at him when he raised his arms beckoning me to climb into them. My body wanted to move- I was screaming for it too, but I was too scared to pull myself across this floor and feel his cold metal arm wrap around me. I know he needed it. He needed his 'Thelma' to comfort him, but I'm not his Thelma. I never will be.

His face was stoic and haunting, but his eyes screamed at me.

He just bowed his head and let the tears flow.

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**Here's a bit of a background on her parents.**

Thelma had her daughter, Sheila when she was 32 in 1950. Her Husband Gerald died when Sheila was 12 in 1962. Thelma never remarried.

Sheila met her Husband Luca in the Summer of '74 during her last year of College when her and some friends studied abroad in Italy. They stayed in touch and didn't get together until 1979 when Sheila found out she was pregnant with Nadene's older sister Loretta. Luca and Sheila married in 1980 and Nadene was born in 1987.

A reviewer **BrokenAngel1753** had noticed that the dates and ages didn't match as I explained above that was a complete accident. So I changed it to where Nadene is 15 instead of 12 when her grandmother died so the age adds up to what I originally had.

I'll go back and fix it in the first couple chapters, too.

And how did you all like this chapter? If I'm reaching in any way let me know and I'll try to make it a bit more believable. I wanted this to be filled with a lot of angst and drama, but I thought that 1940's Bucky could shine through just a tad bit.

Please leave a review! I love hearing form you guys!


	6. Fired

Hey, you guys! (I watched Goonies this weekend after not seeing it for years. Know who says that from The Goonies?)

**Counting Sinful Stars:** Bucky is a tough lad, isn't he? He's in more of a civil state in this chapter. No crazy outburst for Nadene.

**JustKeepSmilingRainbrows**: I'm putting Bucky through the ringer. I feel bad about it, but it'll be worth it in the end. And thank you so much for that- I'm glad this is something you like and haven't seen before:)

**belladu57:** Thank you so much. I appreciate it.

**BrokenAngel1753:** Here you have it:) More for the eager reader!

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**A/N:** **This is going to be the last upload for the next couple of weeks. My Grandmother passed away Tuesday and I'll be leaving for the funeral next week. I may be able to update sometime this week/weekend/early next week, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm not abandoning this fic or anything- I'm just going through some things right now.**

* * *

_"I'm thinking it over_  
_ The way you make me feel all sexy but it's causing me shame_  
_ I wanna lean on your shoulder_  
_ I wish I was in love but I don't wanna cause any pain_  
_ And if I'm feeling like I'm evil, we've got nothing to gain_

_What if I never even see you cuz we're both on a stage_  
_ Don't tell me listen to your song because it isn't the same_  
_ I don't wanna say your love is a waiting game_

_Baby I'm thinking it over_  
_ What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start_  
_ What if it only gets colder_  
_ Would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart_  
_ Cuz lately I've been scared of even thinking 'bout where we are"_

_**Waiting Game by BANKS**_

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After James' meltdown he locked himself in his room in the basement and hasn't been out since. That was two days ago. At night when I'm in my room I hear him stomp upstairs. I think he's trying to be quiet as he looks for food. I'd plate whatever was leftover from my dinner-usually take out- and leave instructions for the microwave. I always made sure to leave a lot of food since he never came out for breakfast or lunch. The first night he didn't understand how to work the microwave and I guess he got angry because when I came down the following day, the food was still there and I had a gaping hole in the screen of my microwave. Luckily, my grandmother had an extra one under the island. It was older and didn't match the decor, but it still worked. So the next night I left clear instructions to not punch the microwave. And he didn't.

We hadn't spoken to each other since his meltdown and him almost strangling me and me finding out he had a metal fucking arm kind of put distance between us. It was very early in the morning when I decided to wake up. It really wasn't my choice I heard a door slam outside my open window. As quickly as I could with a casted leg, I reached my window to see Richard getting out of his car.

He said he was going to stop by today after I had finally gotten a hold of him. I needed to get to him before he banged on the door,"Richard!" I hollered.

He glanced up frowning against the morning sun,"Nadene?"

"I'll be right there," I said ripping away from the door I grabbed my crutches and clobbered down the stairs-a steady hand on the curved wall. I reached the door just as he was bringing his hand up to knock. Richard was a tall man with thick rimmed glasses, a straight nose and a dark brown beard. And he was always wearing plaid. Today, he was in red.

"Hey, sorry about that," I told him slipping out the door. I caught his odd look as I did.

"What?" I frowned looking up at him.

"I didn't think you actually broke your ankle," He gestured.

"What, did you think I lied?"

"Nadene, you've been MIA since last Saturday with no phone call to say why except for when you broke your ankle, but that was a day after it happened. A cop even came to ask questions about you. What is going on?"

"Hey, that's not my fault! I called you like twenty minutes after it happened. You're the one who didn't answer,"

"What's going on, Nadene?" He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at me,"Because if you don't give me a good enough excuse for missing a weeks worth of work, I'm going to have to fire you,"

"Are you kidding me? You have no idea what I've been through-,"

"Are you going to tell me?"

I stared up at him and pursed my lips, opened my mouth and shut it again,"I can't,"

"Then how am I supposed to believe something has happened when you won't tell me?"

"You trust me?" I tried.

"Nadene, I'm sorry. I'll bring over your last paycheck later," Richard squeezed my shoulder and sighed before walking away.

I stood on my stoop fuming. My fingers clenched around my crutches and I spun on my heel and opened the front door. It had newspaper taped to the outside where James punched it in. The cartoon section looked mighty fine against my oak door. I slammed it behind me grumbling under my breath.

"Fucking asshole,"

"Nadene," his voice was gruff and in front of me.

I looked up to see James standing before me. He doesn't look angry, but surprised. His eyes are wide and he has a slight smile on his lips. The sleeve I had tore partially was now gone. His arm, as I had seen earlier, was all metal. His fingers were clenched and I was in awe at how they moved like normal fingers. There was a red star on his shoulder and I wondered what it meant.

"Nadene?"

"Hmm?" I tore my eyes away from his arm to see the question on his face,"Sorry, what is it?"

"I remembered,"

"Remembered what?"

"I remembered how Thelma and I met," and he smiled. He actually smiled and it was the most handsome I've seen of him.

"Really?" I asked moving towards him in excitement, but he held up his hands and stepped back, shaking his head. I caught on and stopped where I was at. James stepped back behind the coffee table. There was so much distance between us.

"Where'd you two meet?" I asked shifting my weight.

"Outside a Diner, The Tiffany Diner in the Bronx. She was wearing a white blouse and a yellow skirt. I was so scared she was going to be angry at me for bumping into her and knocking her purse to the ground, but she wasn't. She just smiled at me and thanked me for picking her purse up. And just like that she was out of my life. I watched her walk to the back of the store and sit in the colored section-I don't know why, but that was the first time I noticed the color of her skin," he told me. His eyes never left mine. His voice was steady and calm. His eyes were bright at the clear memory and he smiled at me.

"She had that much of an impact on you?" I asked.

His gaze was soft and relaxing as he nodded, "Yes, she did,"

"Do you, uh, remember anything else?"

"No. Everything else is still fuzzy. I will eventually, though," He responded with new determination in his eyes he was stepping towards me. He had cleared the coffee table before panic set in. Was he going to kiss me or attack me?

"I have treated you wrongly," his voice was low as he looked at me.

"It's not your fault,"

"That is still not an excuse for all the times I've almost killed you," James took another step towards me. His hand, the metal one, had reached out and clasped around my elbow. It was cold and comforting. It felt just like a hand just cooler and made of metal. I tried not to stare at the way the metal moved, it moved in shifting motions, like his muscles would move. Suddenly, I realized that I was dressed in an oversized t shirt with just underwear and one fluffy sock on, but he didn't seem to mind. Had I really went outside to talk to Richard, my boss, like this? No wonder he fired me. I looked a mess.

"I'm sorry," he whispered pulling me into a hug. And the hate I had for his arm to be around me days ago had dissipated and I reached up letting my crutches fall to the floor. My arms wrapped around his neck as his tightened around my waist. My one foot was on its tippy toes.

"Thank you," He whispered into my hair and I smiled against his leather shirt/vest thing. I really should figure out what to call this.

"You're welcome, James," I told him pulling back,"Do you need clothes? You've been in this for awhile now. I think I have a few of my dads clothes somewhere,"

"New clothes would be nice," he said.

"Ok,"

But neither of us moved. We just stared at each other and I was the one to move away. I picked up my crutches and tucked them underneath my arms.

"Check in one of the guest rooms down the hall. I think there might be clothes in there," I said over my shoulder as I made my way upstairs. Once in my room I pulled on a pair of blue running shorts and switched my oversized shirt for a black t shirt. Since walking around in underwear wasn't going to work anymore. I also tugged on a sock and my one tennis shoe.

In the back of my closet I found a few shirts from old boyfriends even a few pair of jeans. I have no idea why I never got rid of them, but I guess its good I didn't. I slung the clothing over my shoulder and hopped cautiously back down stairs. James was in the living room sitting in front of the couch with the box I had in the guest room closet, rifling through it.

"Here, it's just a few shirts and jeans," I told him handing the clothing to him. He peered up at me, but took the clothes anyways standing up.

"You don't want to look at the rest of my dads clothes?"

He scoffed and smiled,"I'm more of a t shirt and jeans guy. I think," he reached into the box and pulled out my dads old cable knit sweater with the weird tooth things for buttons,"This'll do," and he went and disappeared into the bathroom.

I sat on the couch and waited for him to come out. The t shirts were grey and dark blue. I worried they might not fit since his shoulders were so broad. I stared at my knees and my eyes trailed to the cast on my leg. It was annoying, not yet itching, and no one had signed it yet. That's always been a want or childhood dream of mine, to have friends write all over my cast. I just never broke anything until now. Sighing, I glanced up to see James walking towards me. The shirt and jeans fit him more then perfectly. The fabric was a bit tight around his chest and shoulders. The jeans were snug in all the right places, though and they were long enough in the legs. I had to avert my eyes when he looked over at me.

In his hand was his leather vest/one arm shirt thing and his black cargo pants. I watched him set the clothing on the coffee table before he sat down taking off his socks. His pants tightened around his muscular legs and I had to force myself to not look at his backside while he perched on the arm of the chair. He rolled his socks up and placed them along with all his other black clothes. James slipped his feet into his boots and laced them up. I'd have to go shopping for male socks and essentials soon.

"I can throw those in the wash if you'd like,"

James nodded,"Thank you," he turned to me and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His fingers ran through his hair and he sighed,"Her father didn't like me. Albert never gave me a chance," he said looking at me,"That's why I snuck in all the time,"

He must've remembered more.

"How long were you two-?"

"Three years,"

"Three years?" I was shocked,"You only started showing up in pictures a few months before you were shipped out. I don't understand,"

"I didn't at first either. Once I told you what I had remembered earlier it all came back. In snippets, but I understood it all. Thelma and I knew of each other, but never spoke for obvious reasons. I was always that white man who knocked down her purse, but to me she was the woman with the amazing smile. I went to that diner everyday after class in hopes of seeing her. I always did, but she never paid me any attention. Eventually, the months dwindled into a year and I was giving up, but one day when I had gotten up to get some water from the fountain in the park she had walked up to me and asked why I was following her," he paused,"I told her the truth,"

"What did you tell her?"

"That she was beautiful and I was in love with her," he was smiling faintly at the memory he could now remember,"Thelma told me to stay away from her and so I did, but she was the one who approached me next. It was a few weeks after my confession and she had said ,"I may not be in love with you now, but I'm willing to fall for you if this is real. I'm not putting my life on the line for a fling with a white boy," so I did as best I could to get her to fall in love with me and months later she was.

We were discreet about our relationship, had to be. Thelma would visit me at night she would climb up my fire escape. It wasn't until I had joined the Army and Pearl Harbor and the war started that she introduced me to her parents. Her mother only wanted what was best for her and knew she loved me. Her father was mad because he knew as long as I was white and she was black I would never be able to protect her,"

"What happened next? What happened at that picnic-the one where you're cut from the photos?" I asked eagerly wanting to know more.

James sighed,"I'm not sure- I can't grab hold of that evening, but I do know who cut me out of the photos. They told me they did,"

"Who did it?"

"Thelma did,"

"But why? Why would she do that? She loved you," I blurted. This was all so confusing.

"I don't know,"

"But you said her dad hated you. Maybe he made her do it? Could that have been a factor?" I asked.

"I don't know!" He yelled.

I jumped, startled at how loud his voice was. James's hands were clenched and he was gripping onto his jeans tightly. His hair had fallen into his face and his shoulders and body were rigid as he shook slightly.

"James, I'm sorry," I said quickly.

"Don't. Don't apologize for being curious,"

"I shouldn't have asked you-,"

He lifted his head and looked me in the eye,"Don't apologize," he stated.

I nodded and dropped my gaze to my trembling hands. This silence- the awkward silence had swept over us and I desperately wanted to say something, but nothing was coming to mind. Only James standing up cause me to speak,"Where are you going?"

Without as much as a glances over his shoulder he continued walking and said,"To stand outside,"

I heard the back door slam and I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. He was remembering that was good. I ran a hand threw my hair when the back door opened and James came walking in briskly. His jaw was set and his eyes stood a little ahead of me his head cocked as he seemed to be listening to something. Slowly, he began walking towards my front window.

"James? What is it?" I asked panic welling up inside of me. He shot his hand out signaling for me to stay as he peered out the window. As quickly as he had looked he had turned around.

"Get up," He hissed.

"What's going on?!" I hollered at him. He didn't listen just grabbed me by the arm and tugged me after him.

The air was thick around us and our movements seemed to be so loud in my ears as I tried to figure out what was happening. My mind was going over a million and one things and I was scared. James just walked fast and his hand around my wrist was tightening to a painful squeeze.

"James?!"

"They found us,"

"Found us?! You mean they found you, right? Not me, I'm just a civilian who was too nice to a stranger with crazy homicidal tendencies," I said my voice was hoarse and panicky as I tried to calm down.

James threw a pointed look over his shoulder and I just shrugged," A civilian that took me in, Nadene. Hurry up!" He had pulled me towards the kitchen when I heard the front door smash in. It was loud as it smacked against the wall. I just painted those walls last month.

"Oh my God!"

James spun around and clamped a hand over my mouth and he leaned down to whisper in my ear," I need you to be quiet. Things are about to go to shit. I don't need you getting shot," He hissed and spun me around to face him. He rested his hand on my trembling cheek as I choked back tears. I looked into his eyes and they were dark and cold. He was ready to fight. At the sound of footsteps on running upstairs and voices in the next room, James had shoved me down behind the island and ran up the stairs that led from the kitchen to the hall by the bathroom upstairs. I begged him not to leave me, but he was already gone. I plastered my back against the island and clamped a hand over my mouth when I heard footsteps too loud to be James's.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

"One heat signature behind the island. Female," the voice whispered and I shuddered at how close he was, "Terminate?"

"Affirmative,"

I squeezed my eyes shut. This is not happening. I can't believe this is happening. And here I thought harboring a villain was going to be fun. A gloved hand shot out from above me and grabbed me by my hair- I could feel my hair tug harshly at my scalp. I screamed and kicked out as he pulled. In one swift motion I was pulled up and onto the cold counter of the island. The man smiled above me. He had camouflage painted across his face, but his eyes were blue and his teeth were so white as he spoke.

"Looks like you're coming with us, sweetie," He hissed and pulled me the rest of the way off the table. I shrieked when I hit the ground- I had tried to not let my broken ankle hit hard, but it did. His arm wrapped tightly around my waist and he hefted me up off the ground and began to walk away.

"Get off of me! Let me go! Please, let me go," I was beating my fist against his arm as hard as I could," James! Jaaaaaames!" I screamed out as loud as I could.

"She's calling him. What do we do?" The man holding me questioned into his earpiece. I took this chance to reach to my hip and pull back his fingers until I heard him scream out and I dropped to the floor. My leg took most of the impact and I cried out again and I just laid there trying to breath through the pain.

"God damn it. Stop hitting my fucking leg, you bastards!"

I didn't see it, but I heard it. There was a suck in of breath and the sound of bones cracking and then a body hit the floor and I lazily opened my eyes. A hand was shaking my shoulder and my vision cleared to see a panicked James.

"James!" I gasped.

He had a duffel bag over his shoulder and the man who was alive answering orders from an earpiece was now dead on the floor, his neck at an odd angle. James reached out a hand for me and I shuffled towards him quickly. Once my fingers latched onto his hand we were off. He had picked me up in one swift motion and I just laid there in his arms, my leg pulsing with pain.

"I grabbed some clothes, your phone and purse and some canned food from the basement. Your medication is in your purse?"

I really wasn't paying much attention to him, but to the bodies on my living room floor. There were three men plus the one in the kitchen, dead on the floor. Two were dead at the base of the steps. They were all wearing black. Some military get up and had guns. James reached down and grabbed a gun, slinging it over his shoulder. How did he have enough time to kill them all? He carried me outside to my jeep and kneeled down with me still in his arms to inspect the car.

"The tires are slit," He announced standing.

"Wait," I whispered, but he kept walking and I struggled in his grasp until my writhing body forced him to set me on my feet. James just walked past me as I tried to keep balance. Another wave of pain hit and I felt like I was going to puke right here, my knees gave out and I fell to the damp ground. The grass tickled my bare legs and hands as I breathed heavily. James was ahead of me- still walking,"Wait, damn it!"

He didn't stop. My voice cracked as I tried again, "Wait,"

"James!" I exclaim and he stops dead in his tracks. I let out a sigh of relief,"Wh-what's happening? Why are they chasing you?"

James spun around to face me,"They're after us, Nadene. Us," he was in front of me so quickly I had thought he had teleported. James knelt down by my trembling body. I lifted my head and stared harshly at him through a mess of tears. His face was hard and stoic. At this moment I was glad for whatever they did to him because he was in a new mode. A mode that was going to keep him alive. Us alive.

"Who are they?" I uttered through trembling lips.

His blue eyes narrowed and one word slips past his pursed lips,"Hydra."

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**And there you have it. That just went a bit crazy didn't it? Please, read & review:) I'd love to hear from you. The Tiffany Diner was named after one of my mom's old friends that loved Diners. It's not an actual place...**


	7. Important

**A/N: I am leaving for Basic Training soon. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not abandoning this story. As of September 1, 2014 _Love is A Waiting Game_ is on hold.**

**Thanks for being great readers.**


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